


Dress Code

by Astray



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: (seriously: Plo is Dad), Angst with a Happy Ending, Dad Plo, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Wolffe needs time, and lots of hugs, clonepile, post-Malevolence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 18:51:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12394062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astray/pseuds/Astray
Summary: When General Koon shows up at the Pack's sleeping quarters, Wolffe finds himself like a deer in the headlight because he is pretty certain protocol doesn't include greeting your general in your blacks, and not being in your own quarters, forcing said general to look for you all over the ship.





	Dress Code

Wolffe was a commander. And as such, he did what his fellow troopers did, but probably took it to some extremes. But he was fairly certain that no  _ vod _ would bear to face their General in their lower blacks. None of them. As such, he was mortified when his general showed up to the barracks, looking for him, and ran into what was usually referred to as The Pile. It was something that Wolffe, Boost, and Sinker had unwittingly started after losing everyone else. They had needed the reassurance, and even if Wolffe had done his absolute best not to look like he needed the support, he had. And Boost and Sinker had both seen through it, although neither brought it up, for which Wolffe was grateful. He was still their commander. 

Gradually, more  _ vode  _ had moved to the pile, and Wolffe was glad for it. It helped. It helped when they were so deep in space and sometimes, memories would seize him. He knew he had a good poker face, but he could not fool the medics, and never really put up a fight if one of them decided it was ‘cuddle time’. Especially not when it was Paws who did - the  _ vod _ was like a moving, breathing, heating unit, and was a soothing presence. 

And since the pile was a  _ vode _ thing, they usually shed most of their clothes. Because it was warm enough, they had enough blankets to make a nest - and their general was to be thanked for it. Which brought him to the current predicament of being half-naked, with Comet attached to his side like a barnacle, in the middle of a pile of similarly rather undressed  _ vode _ \- and General Koon in the doorway.

Command track had Wolffe learn all about instant decision-making but right then he was torn between too many options: waking up his  _ vode _ to get them to dress - because you don’t hang around half-naked in front of your general (and even Sinker, who never had a problem going starkers among themselves, would agree) ; or letting them sleep because they were all finally resting ; throwing himself into the void - or a reactor - because  _ really, Wolffe, you’re supposed to be reachable at all time and what were you thinking going around like that? _ Even if, objectively, that had been the right option - because he was feeling drained, needed to recover - and even if he did his best to stick to his quarters as much as he could, in hyperspace, he just could not bear being alone. He hated it. Hated the sound of his own breathing and the creeping sensation, like he was aware of his body’s sounds. Like he was stuck in an anechoic chamber and yes, he had a reputation for being absolutely unflappable but there were moments when he just wanted to break down. 

Not that he would allow himself to. And which did not change anything to his predicament. All his thoughts collided in a matter of seconds, just in time for his body to shake off sleep’s mantle, and he was up as fast as he dared, gently getting Comet to relocate to Fang’s side. The medic grumbled something and did not wake up when Comet wrapped himself around him and relaxed immediately. Wolffe was up in a heartbeat, and grabbed the first blacks he could get his hands on to dress. It was nowhere near appropriate enough to greet his general, he knew that, but it was the best he could do in that moment. He went to the door, silent and fast, and passed the general, who let him out - and closed the door. 

“General, I-”  _ Did not expect you, and I understand it’s not the protocol and I have no excuse and that won’t happen ever again and- _

“I am sorry for worrying you, Commander. I was looking for you, and had hoped that you were not already asleep.”

“Nothing to apologise for, Sir. I should have been in my quarters, and I apologise for the inappropriate dress.”

There was a subtle change coming over the Jedi Master, and Wolffe had seen it - although never directed at him. He was not quite sure what it entailed.

“Wolffe, you deserve to rest, and have time with your men. As for dress, there are no dress code that I’m aware of that makes it so outrageous to wear your blacks on the ship or when on a break.”

“But, Sir…” He cut himself short. He wanted to tell the general that blacks were just barely better than underwears and that protocol.

“You are projecting, Wolffe.”” The general was speaking gently, and it helped, it really helped and it reminded Wolffe of the calmness that he had showed when they were stuck in that pod and- He felt himself being carefully drawn into a loose hug - and knew he could break free. But for some reason, because it was the general who initiated it, it seemed even more outrageous to jump away. “You are a highly skilled and dependable commander, and I am proud to serve with you. The way you dress in your free time, or the fact that you sleep with your men and not in your quarters, would never make you less in my eye. And I am still sorry that I woke you, as it could have waited.”

“A commander should always be available, Sir.” Although Wolffe’s voice was barely a whisper, and he could not breathe properly and he was not going to have a break down right now, thank you. 

“I trust you keep your commlink with you.” Wolffe nodded, albeit a bit numbly at this point. “Then you are reachable. But please, son, tell me when you go to sleep - so that I don’t end up waking you like I did - unless there is an emergency.”

Wolffe could not speak. Did the general realize he just called him ‘son’? The word was absolutely foreign - being a clone making that sort of expression a figure of speech more than anything else. But the way the general had said it - he meant it. Wolffe could not read his expression - the mask obscured his face - but he could have sworn the general’s gaze was kindly. 

“I noticed. And I mean it. I care for you, each of you. And I would protect you the best I can. That includes making sure you are well-rested. Now, I think it would be best if I left you to it. Boost feels restless, and he is not the only one. They need you, as you need them.”

Wolffe thanked him, at a complete loss of what else he could say - because he was fairly sure that any further apologies would not be deemed necessary. After the general left, Wolffe went back to the pile - only to latched onto by Comet and Boost, and someone else was stroking his hair. 

“You worry too much, Wolffe. Sleep.” That had to be Fang - he sounded almost cavernous when he was barely awake. And Wolffe heeded him - but not before a last lingering thought - the general cared, Wolffe was somehow not punished for his impropriety, and he had that odd feeling blooming in his chest - of feeling cared for. It was different with  _ vode _ . But Plo Koon had said he cared, and Wolffe believed him. It eased him, as sleep slowly took over his limbs and mind.

 


End file.
